


Target Practice - Tim/Dally

by eliniel



Series: Outsiders Requests [5]
Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Guns, Home Invasion, Requests, dallas fuckin winston, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliniel/pseuds/eliniel
Summary: Tumblr Request. Prompts: “I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me.” & “Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.”





	Target Practice - Tim/Dally

Tim woke up to a rifling sound somewhere in the house. It took a moment to reorient himself to his surroundings. He was in his room, his bed. Tonight is…?

Friday night. Right. Okay.

He could hear Curly’s obnoxious snoring from across the hall. Good god, whoever marries that kid is gonna have one helluva time. 

And Angela was…? At a friend’s house for the night.

…

So who the fuck was in his house?

Tim sighed out his nose and sat up, the sheet sliding down his bare chest. He scratched at an itch on his neck with one hand, uncovered his legs with the other. He dropped his feet on the cold wood floor and stretched his arms out. 

Once he was finally, actually awake, he made for the closet and grabbed his loaded shotgun. He tried to listen over his stupid brother’s snoring- and he was pretty sure it was coming from the kitchen. Tim’s brow furrowed. 

What the hell? What’s in the kitchen that’s so valuable?

Slowly, he stalked down the hall, making sure his feet didn’t make a sound. When he got to the living room, he could see a dim light shining in the kitchen. The ice box? Did some homeless guy just break into his house for food? For fuck’s sake. 

Swiftly, Tim turned the corner and saw the door to the refrigerator wide open, whoever was behind it bent over, searching. He raised the shotgun and loaded the chamber. 

“Hands up, motherfucker,” he called. 

Dallas Fucking Winston’s head popped up from behind the door. He had a piece of sliced turkey hanging out of his mouth as he raised one hand. With the other, he stuffed the rest of the meat into his mouth and swallowed quickly.

“I think I’m pretty bulletproof, man...but uh, don’t actually shoot me,” he said, breaking out into that stupid lopsided grin that got on Tim’s last nerve. 

“What the hell, man?” Tim asked, lowering his gun and shaking his head. He stole a glance at the clock on the wall behind Dally. “Its two in the fuckin’ mornin’. What are ya doin’ breakin’ into my house, eatin’ my food?”

“Okay, strictly speakin’, I didn’t break in.”

“And how’s that, exactly?”

“I got a key.” He reached into his pocket and held it up. Tim swiped at it, trying to get it bad, but Dally had always been faster. 

“And how did you get that key?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Fuckin’ Christ, he just wanted to sleep. 

“Kinda nicked it off your brother a few weeks ago.”

“Jesus Christ, Dally.” The kid stuffed another piece of turkey in his mouth. He was gonna slam the door closed on Winston’s head if he wasn’t careful. “Just make a god damn sandwich and stop wastin’ all the electricity.” 

“Fine, fine.”

Tim went back into the front room, flipped the lightswitch, and set the shotgun down against the coffee table, then dropped into the couch cushions, laying across all three. He put a hand over his eyes and waited for his stupid hood friend to join him. 

When he heard Dally set himself up in the armchair next to the television, Tim removed his hand and stared up at the ceiling. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You gonna tell me why you’re here?”

His answer was unintelligible, his mouth full of meat and bread and cheese. 

“English, please?” An audible swallow. 

“Was on this side of town. Saw a cop tailin’ me. Figured your place would be the best hideout ‘round this area.”

“What’d you do this time?”

“Well, I ain’t done nothin’, yet.”

Tim sighed heavily. 

“So let me get this straight, Winston.” He turned his head to see Dally take a long drink out of a beer bottle- again, taken from his fridge. “You broke into my house and woke me up at two in the mornin’ just because you thought a cop was after you when you done nothin’ to get picked up for?”

He saw the cogs turn in his friend’s head, trying to process everything that had just been said.

“Uh-yeah, I guess so.” Another sip of beer. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, man? You didn’t think for a minute that maybe- just _maybe_ that cop was just doin’ his rounds and he wasn’t really after you?” Dally paused, sandwich halfway up to his face. 

“Nah, I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Ya know, not everyone is out to get ya. You gotta stop thinkin’ that. It’s annoyin’ the hell outta me.”

“Chill out, man,” Dally said, mouth full again. 

“I outta just fuckin’ shoot ya.”

“So, can I stay here tonight?”

Tim sat up again and grabbed the shotgun by the barrell and stood to go back to his bedroom. Another sigh.

“I guess. You know where the pillows and blankets are.” 

Dally stood up as well, heading to put his plate in the sink and take up the couch for the night. Tim paused at the mouth of the hallway and turned back. He pointed a finger at his friend.

“But you better be gone by the time I wake up.”

“Yeah, yeah, man. Whatever.” 

He went back to his bedroom and shut the door. He put the gun back in the closet and fell back onto his mattress. As he covered up and turned over onto his side, he played back the entire conversation in his head and vowed to kill that stupid hood in the morning for ruining his sleep. 

“Fuckin’ Winston.”


End file.
